


The Challenges of Wedded Bliss

by HumsHappily



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Come play, Crack, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Food Sex, Hand Jobs, Johnlock - Freeform, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Married Sex, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Rimming, Roof Sex, Spanking, Stair Sex, Switch John, Switch Sherlock, Wedding Night, crime scene sex, fluffy sex, sex in the rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3400517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily/pseuds/HumsHappily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock have finally gotten married, and it's time to christen Baker Street. And the surrounding areas. And the roof. A crime scene might be nice too. Basically everywhere. Shagging like bunnies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Bedroom

“The bedroom, John?” Sherlock scoffed, “Think bigger.” 

“Fine. The kitchen, the sitting room, the bathroom, obviously. Both bedrooms. The hallway. On the stairs somehow, both sets. But for tonight, the bedroom.” John replied, crossing his arms.

The men stood in the entrance to 221B in matching tuxedos, silver rings glinting on their fingers. 

“The roof.”

“The back alley.”

“Mrs.Hudson’s.”

“Sherlock!” 

“John.” Sherlock tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. 

“D’ya know what? Fine. We’re doing it. All of it. But I’ll be damned if I don’t spend my wedding night, in my bedroom, with my new husband, no doubt doing very filthy things. Let’s go.” 

John dragged Sherlock forward by the hand, shutting the flat door behind them.


	2. The Kitchen

“Sherlock, is the counter cleaned off?”

“Yes, John.” Sherlock called from his place at the table, irritation obvious as he focused his microscope. 

“Did you put up the take away, and those ears?”

“Mhmm.” Sherlock mumbled, fiddling with the dials. He straightened slowly as John came up behind him and set his hands on his shoulders.

“We haven’t done the kitchen yet.” John murmured. 

Sherlock turned, eyes widening at the sight of John, naked, cock hard and at attention. 

“Oh.” 

“Mmmhm.”

“Now?”

“Well, I was planning on it.” John replied, mouth quirked in a smile.

Sherlock stood swiftly in response, untying the drawstring of his cotton trousers. They fell to the floor, and John stepped forward with a pleased sigh. Sherlock made to shrug off his robe, but John stopped him.

“Keep that on for now, yeah? Wouldn’t want you to catch cold.”

Sherlock’s cock twitched, slowly filling, as John’s gaze roved over his body. John reached down, tugging at his own cock carefully.

“Mmm, hello gorgeous.” John said quietly, before pressing Sherlock back toward the counter. Sherlock took the hint, levering himself up onto the hard surface. John smiled and placed a palm on each thigh, spreading Sherlock’s legs apart, shifting him closer to the edge.

“It’s perfect isn’t it?” John said. “You’re at just the right height for me. Spread and waiting.” 

Sherlock gave a little shudder at John’s voice, the tone deep, reverberating through his entire body. John smiled wickedly and reached behind Sherlock. “I may have come unprepared for this. I guess we’ll have to just experiment, yeah?” 

There was a small snap as a lid opened, and John drizzled olive oil on his fingers from a deep green bottle. 

“Gift from a client wasn’t this? Imported all the way from Greece? And now…” 

John dipped his hand between Sherlock’s cheeks, rubbing at his hole. “Now it’s going to let me fuck you, nice and smooth.” He slid one finger in, and Sherlock gasped, eyes closing. John chuckled, bringing his other hand up to turn Sherlock’s face toward the window.

“What would you say if we were somewhere else? Where someone could see. Pretend Sherlock, that someone is standing there watching you.” John slid another finger in, stretching Sherlock open, thrusting his fingers deep. 

“Seeing me fuck you, looking through the window at the great consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, moaning for my cock up your arse like a whore.” Sherlock shook, short gasping breaths escaping him as he stared blindly toward the window. 

John added a third finger, leaning forward to whisper in Sherlock’s ear. “Do you know what the best part is Sherlock? It’s the way you tremble for me. So needy and flushed while I open you.” 

“Hmm..” John murmured. “One day, I bet I could lay you down, spread your legs wide. Work you open until you could take my whole fist. Make you ride it until you’re begging me to come. Then I’ll fuck you through it.” Sherlock moaned, face a brilliant red, as he ground down on John’s fingers. 

“Do you want me in you Sherlock?” 

Sherlock nodded, body glittering with sweat. John pulled his fingers out, slicking his cock. He slid in with a groan, leaning forward to lick at Sherlock’s nipples. Sherlock gasped, fingers clutching at John’s shoulders. John thrust forward, Sherlock letting out a high pitched whine as the angle they stand at forces the head of John’s cock to rub directly over his prostate.

“John.” Sherlock choked out, robe slipping from his shoulders as John slammed into him again. “John, please.” 

Sherlock wrapped his legs around John’s back, locking his ankles as he tosses his head back, long pale neck on display. John grunts in response, one hand sliding around to Sherlock’s lower back, tugging him onto his cock. The other slides up, grasping the back of Sherlock’s neck, squeezing gently. Sherlock writhed, and John slid both hands down, pulling out completely. He tugged Sherlock down from the counter, down onto the cold laminate floor. John spins Sherlock around, holding him close to his chest. Sherlock gets the picture, sinking onto John’s cock, riding him. John’s hands grab hold of Sherlock’s hips as he thrusts up.

“Agh Sherlock. You take it so well, riding me like the little slut no one expects you to be. Everyone expects an innocent little virgin don’t they? What would they say if I took pictures and showed them around?” 

Sherlock whimpered as John slipped a finger down to trace around his hole, other hand pushing Sherlock’s back forward so he could watch as Sherlock stretched around his cock.

“Show them how nice you take a cock. Maybe I’ll fill you up, take pictures as my come leaks down your thighs, spills out of that nice puffy asshole. All open and used.” 

Sherlock grabbed John’s thighs, nails digging in hard as he gasped. He came hard, splattering come over his chest. John followed him over as Sherlock collapsed forward, his cock sliding out of Sherlock’s abused hole. 

“Oh christ. I’m too old for this.” John pants, as Sherlock wriggled over to curl into his side. 

“You are absolutely filthy John Hamish Watson.” Sherlock reprimands, some of the scorn lost as he drags a finger through the semen across his chest, bringing the digit to his mouth for a taste. 

“Keep that up, and we might have another go faster than expected.” John groaned, bringing his hands up to press at his eyes. 

“Mmmm.”


	3. The Sitting Room

Sherlock was whimpering, on hands and knees in front of the empty fireplace, head hanging between his arms. John was stretched over him, rutting against Sherlock’s arse as he nipped marks into the man's shoulders and neck. 

"I'm going to lick you open first, Sherlock. Leave you open and wet for me, wanting nothing more that my cock up your arse." John said, as he pinched Sherlock's nipple, rolling the hardening bud between his thumb and forefinger.

"Maybe one day I'll do it again, tie you up, leave you here bound and gagged. I'll start the fire so you don't get chilled of course, I'm not cruel." John trailed a finger down Sherlock's spine, following it down with his mouth. 

"Watch the light flicker on your pale skin, red and hot while you whimper for me to fill you. Tears rushing down your face as you call out around the gag." He sucked a mark into the tender skin, before parting Sherlock's arse cheeks, just looking. Sherlock groaned as John huffed, warm air making him squirm as it hit his hole. 

"Stick a plug in your greedy little hole, stretch it, keep all my come inside, so I can use you over and over."

"John, please." 

"Please what?"

"Please, touch me." 

"With my hands?" John said teasing Sherlock's rim with one spit slick finger. 

Sherlock moaned, pushing back only to yelp and jerk forward as John slapped his hip.

"With my mouth?" John asked, bowing his head, finally putting his mouth over Sherlock.  
John hummed as he licked a stripe over Sherlock’s pink fluttering hole, teasing the rim with short kitten licks. Sherlock moaned as John wriggled his tongue, the filthy sensation causing his cock to throb. John sucked at the rim as he burrowed his tongue deeper. 

"More, Sherlock?" He asked pulling his mouth away.

Sherlock could only groan, thrusting against the air in search of friction.

"Sounds like a yes to me, but you better use your words to be sure." John murmured.

"Pleaseeee...." Sherlock cried out as John slipped a nearly dry finger into his hole, mouth still working around the edge. The _pleasurepain_ as John worked him was too much and with a single graze of his prostate Sherlock was coming. John milked him through the orgasm, humming with delight.  
Sherlock collapsed, panting heavily as his body shook with the aftershocks. 

"Still think the sitting room sex is tedious?" John asked, hand wrapped around his cock. "Christ, you're gorgeous." 

Sherlock moaned, flipping over just in time to have John splatter come over his face.  
He let his tongue slip out, licking a drop of pearly white liquid from his lip as John stared, cock already hardening for the second round. 

"Definitely not boring." Sherlock replied with a wicked smile.


	4. The Bathroom

“I still can’t believe you managed to fall into a duck pond.” John was crouched at the side of the bath. 

“The ducks were plotting against me.”   
Sherlock yawned, giving a soft smile. John loved him like this, pliant and soft, his barriers dropped. 

“John?”

“Yeah, Sherlock?”

“Wash my hair please?” Sherlock mumbled, fluttering his eyelashes. John chuckled. 

“Please don’t ever do that again.” 

“Why not? It worked on Molly for ages. She'd always get me kidneys when I did it."   
Sherlock replied, stretching his arms above his head. 

“Did she?” John replied distractedly, as he lathered his hands with Sherlock’s fancy shampoo. Scented like sandalwood and lemongrass, the stuff was nearly seven pounds a bottle, but it was worth it for the way Sherlock purred as he worked the dark curls.

"You're gorgeous, you know that?" John murmured as he rinsed Sherlock's curls. The man in question simply gave a soft groan as John tugged lightly on his hair. His cock bobbed to the surface of the water, interest in the proceedings apparent.

"What's this then?" John said, taking a soapy hand and stroking along Sherlock's length gently. Sherlock gave a hum of delight, allowing his head to rest against the back of the tub. "Do you want me to get you off, Sherlock?"

"Mmm, please." Sherlock murmured.

John acquiesced, wrapping his hand around Sherlock's cock, working it slowly. Sherlock gasped as John ran a thumb around the tip, slicking it through the precome beading up on his slit.

"Ohhh...John please..." Sherlock groaned as John moved his hand down around the hard shaft. 

"Shush. Just let me take care of you," was the reply as John kept moving at the same achingly slow pace. He let his other hand drift through the water to fondle Sherlock's bollocks.   
"You're so beautiful like this. How does it feel Sherlock?"

"'More please. Faster."

"No, we're going to take this slow, so you'll be aching to come, pet." 

Sherlock gave a soft whimper, pushing up into John's touch. 

“That’s my boy.” John withdrew his hand from under the water, rubbing soft circles into Sherlock’s thigh. “You were brilliant today you know. Saw every detail the yard missed.” 

John sped his fist up just slightly, making Sherlock pant. He leaned in capturing the man’s mouth, catching the moans that spilled from his lover as his thumb slipped over the head once more. 

Sherlock gave a final shudder and came, gasping against John’s mouth. 

John hummed in satisfaction, working his husband through his orgasm, catching the spill in his palm. A single drop escaped to pool on the waters surface, opaque and oily.  
John stood and turned, washing his hands at the sink before returning to his kneeling position on the bath mat.

“That's the bathroom done then.” Sherlock murmured, head lolling against John’s shoulder. John smiled as the wet curls soaked patterns into his shirt, and shifted, guiding Sherlock from the tub. The man stood sleepily as John dried him, wrapping him in the robe hanging on the nearby hook. He kneeled again, lifting Sherlock in his arms, and carrying him from the bathroom to lay him gently on the bed. Sherlock grabbed sleepily for his hand, and John allowed himself to be tugged down to curl into his lover’s side. It had been a very long day.


	5. The Upper Bedroom

"God, you are such a cock sometimes." John growled, pushing Sherlock up against the wall. "You had to run your mouth at the crime scene. You made the witness cry."   
Sherlock wriggled his arse back into John, laughing. "Yes, but the look on Anderson's face was well worth it."

"Oh no. Do you have any idea the paper work Greg is going to have to file now?" John asked, slapping Sherlock on the arse. "You even set fire to the scene, Sherlock. What were you thinking?"

"That it was the fastest way to make the suspect flee and get you back here where I wanted you. This is our honeymoon after all. And it was a small fire!" 

John rolled his eyes, yanking Sherlock's shirt open and twisting it behind his back as buttons flew. "Bit not good, Sherlock."

He dragged Sherlock over toward the bed by his trapped wrists, sitting on the edge and pulling all six foot of lanky consulting detective over his lap. 

"How many?" John asked as he spread his legs, making room to work Sherlock's flies and buttons open.

"Argh, none." 

"Sherlock." John's tone brooked no discussion and Sherlock hid his face as he grinned down at the ground.

"Ten."

"Ten hard ones for setting the fire, five more for being such an arse to the witness, and another five as this is a terrible punishment since you enjoy it, and because you deserve a reward for making Anderson look stupid. " 

John replied, pulling Sherlock's trousers down around his knees. "And after that, you're going to fuck me into this mattress, got it?" 

"Yes, Captain." 

"Cheeky." John said, kneading the flesh of Sherlock’s right arse cheek roughly under his hand. 

"Ready? Count."


	6. The Hallway

Sherlock's legs were wrapped around John's waist, his hands on the man's shoulders as the doctor thrust into him. 

"Harder, John." 

"You're not-oof- exactly light you know." 

Sherlock tugged John's hair, wedding ring glinting in the light that spilled from the bathroom.

"Then you shouldn't have decided to pick me up in the first place." 

"Bull, you came running when I got home. Already stretched, practically jumped on my cock." John replied breathlessly. "It was catch you or let you fall." 

Sherlock's hands slammed into the wall behind them as a particularly well aimed thrust from John hit his prostate.

"Ah! Down John, take me on the floor."

John obliged, kneeling down with hardly a grimace. He let Sherlock go and the detective flipped over on his stomach, chest down, arse arching up into the air. "Fuck me. Hard."   
John sliding his cock back inside his husband, hands gripping the man's hips. The floor was rough on his knees, the light scratching burn just pushing him to go faster. Sherlock moaned as his chest scraped across the floor, nipples rubbing against the runner. 

He reached a hand back and John grabbed it, holding tight as he fucked in once more, groaning as he filled Sherlock. He pulled out, and slid his finger into Sherlock, keeping his come in place as he stroked Sherlock's cock.

"I missed you today too, Sherlock." He said simply, as the younger man gave a sharp cry, shuddering beneath him.


	7. The Stairs

“Pants, Sherlock, pants” John panted, as he scrambled with the waistband of his trousers.

 

“No time.” Sherlock groaned, hands flying up to the handrail above his head.

“Jesus christ, you and that fucking mouth.” John’s arm slipped out from under him and he collapsed with an ‘oof’ onto Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock bucked underneath him, rutting shamelessly against the thigh that rested atop his hard cock. John swore, and ground down, biting a mark into Sherlock’s shoulder.

“God,  John.”  Sherlock released the rail, wrapping his hands around John, sliding them into the man’s pants to grasp at his arse.

“I’m going to come in my pants.” John groaned as Sherlock pulled him closer.

“You were, agh, making me jealous on purpose.” John muttered, riding Sherlock’s thigh. He threaded his fingers through the messy curls, yanking Sherlock’s head forward for a filthy kiss.

“Brilliant ahhh deduction John, now, move, faster.”  Sherlock grunted, as they broke apart. He pinched at John's thigh.

“You’re mine. You belong with me, not some tart young enough to be your son.” John growled, sucking a brilliant red mark into Sherlock’s neck. “Say it.”

“Only yours.”

“Again.”

“Yours.”

“ **LOUDER** ”

“ **YOURS**!” Sherlock cried out, just as John shuddered and came, staining the front of his red pants dark.  John shuffled quickly to kneel on a lower stair, maneuvering Sherlock so his legs were splayed wide. He mouthed over the man’s covered cock, free hand pinching the inside of Sherlock’s thigh. Sherlock came with a grunt, wide-eyed as he stared down at John. John grinned and licked the length of him, eyes never leaving Sherlock’s. He slithered up the man’s body, claiming his mouth, biting at his bottom lip.

“Mine.”

Sherlock groaned and let his head thud back against the landing as John grinned.

“Always.”


	8. The Roof

"Sherlock, this can't be a good idea." John looked up at the sky as Sherlock prepped him, already three fingers deep. "It's supposed to-Ahh!" 

John arched up as Sherlock gave a short stroke past his prostate, long fingers doing an excellent job at distracting him from the oncoming weather. 

"Oohhhh, that's good." John groaned as Sherlock pressed in a fourth finger, free hand lubing his own cock. 

Sherlock smirked. "Ready, John?"

John nodded, eyes squeezed shut as Sherlock withdrew his fingers, wiping them on the blanket they had laid out after getting to the roof. John bent his legs, pulling his knees to his chest. He gave a breathy cry as Sherlock lined himself up, the head of his cock slipping easily into John's open hole. They groaned in tandem as Sherlock pressed slowly forward, filling John. 

Sherlock leaned down, pressing an oddly gentle kiss to John's forehead as he pulled out, then rolled his hips, thrusting hard. John gasped at the sensation, throwing his head back. His eyes flew open as Sherlock bottomed out, bollocks slapping against his arse.

"Sherlock." John whimpered. 

"John." The roll of thunder in the sky above them nearly matched Sherlock's deep growl of possession as he moved within John. "You're mine." 

"I'm yours." John panted in reply and Sherlock rolled them so John was on top. John began to ride Sherlock as the thunder crashed above them, the skies opening up, rain pouring down onto the roof of Baker Street.

John groaned, hands braced against Sherlock's shoulders as he threw his head back. The rain was coming down in sheets as lightning flashed in the distance, and John threw his head back, mouth open as the water washed down his body.

"Harder, God, Sherlock please.." 

Sherlock thrust up as John pushed down, bodies glistening wet in the flashes of light. John cried out first, body arching back as thunder cracks above them. Sherlock came with him, mouth open in a silent moan as he filled John. John shuddered and fell forward, and they held each other tight as the storm raged on above them.


	9. The Alley

"I'm so glad you waited to take out the rubbish John. It's nearly dark." 

"Jesus Sherlock!"'John dropped the bag he was carrying with a dignified yelp. Sherlock swooped down, picking it up and plopping it into the bin. "You frightened the life outta me you great git." He scowled at Sherlock, who just smiled.

"'Now. It's nearly dark. No one can see anything." Sherlock purred, moving forward. John's eyes were already dark in the dim light but as Sherlock stalked him, his irises became nothing but thin rims of color as his pupils dilated.

"Sherlock?"

"John." 

Sherlock struck, pinning John to the brick wall, unbuttoned coat spreading to cover them from any wandering eyes. His arms bracketed John's head, the smaller man licking his lips as Sherlock looked him over. 

"This is getting ridiculous. I really never expected-" John was cut off by Sherlock leaning forward and claiming his mouth. Sherlock ground against John, his cock already tenting his trousers. Their tongues slid hungrily together, the kiss growing wet and sloppy before Sherlock slid down to his knees. 

"John?" Sherlock said, with a grin on his face. "I'm going to suck you off until you come twice." 

A muffled "Oh, God" was all John could stammer out from behind his hands, as Sherlock undid his belt and flies, slipping one hand down to pull out his cock.

"Not really, but I don't mind the moniker." Sherlock smirked.

John's retort turned into a breathy groan as Sherlock bobbed his head, swallowing him down in one fell swoop.


	10. Mrs.Hudson's

"She's gone to her sister’s, John, and won't be back until Monday. I don't know what you’re worried about."

"It's just wrong, Sherlock! This woman could be our mother and you want to fuck in her flat."

"Are you telling me that Three Continents Watson never fooled around in his parents house?" Sherlock asked, eyes glinting as they stood in Mrs. Hudson's kitchen. He walked over to the cupboard rifling through for something. John didn't notice what he pulled out, distracted as he was by the sheer amount of consulting detective on display. 

Sherlock had messaged him, asking for help downstairs. John had rushed down only to be pulled into 221A by a detective in only lacy black pants that barely covered his cock and his thin blue silk robe unbelted. 

"Come, John. Just one quick fuck. Please?"   
Sherlock stuck out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. John groaned as Sherlock came forward, looming over him, sex personified. He held up a bottle of honey in his hand, a smirk spreading across his face as John took it in.

"We are not having sex in Mrs. Hudson’s flat. I've changed my mind." John replied, backing away until his hips hit the kitchen table.

"Aren't we?" Sherlock purred, crowding up against John. He dipped his head down, running his tongue along John's neck before fastening on and sucking. John gasped, hands grabbing to the table edge for support as Sherlock bit down, marking him. 

"Mmf, no we aren't." John managed to moan out, his teeth gritted together.

"Oh well." Sherlock moved away, quickly pulling a chair from the table and sitting down in it, legs spread wide. "I'll just take care of this myself." He slid his pants down, scooping his cock out. The honey, somehow still in his hand, made an appearance, lid clicking open. Sherlock grinned devilishly up at John, before drizzling the sticky substance over the head of his cock.

"Come on John. Just one lick..."

John's legs were threatening to give out, and he sank to his knees just as Sherlock ran his thumb around the head, smearing honey and precome in circles. "Please, John?" He held up his thumb, slick and sweet.

John shuffled over, giving up on any pretense of resistance. He opened his mouth and Sherlock slipped the thumb in, rolling it around John's tongue.

"You're going to suck me anyway, aren’t you John?" John nodded feverishly around the digit in his mouth, eyes hooded and dark as he gazed up at Sherlock.

"Good."


	11. Bonus: The Crime Scene

“John? Could I speak with you for a moment?” Sherlock’s voice was unusually polite and John shuddered at what that might entail. He walked over to Sherlock, crouching down beside the man as he peered into the fireplace. “You’re going to come outside with me, in exactly two minutes. There is a garden shed in the yard.” Sherlock murmured, still peering at the gaps in the brick. 

“Sherlock, there is no way--”

“John.” The detective turned with a sly smile on his face. “I know you’ve been thinking about it. Since the moment we left the flat.”

That much was true, since they had been interrupted in the beginning of what could have turned out to be a fantastic shag. 

“Sherlock, there are police everywhere.” 

“And they’re terribly unobservant. The victim wasn’t even killed here.” Sherlock replied, voice growing loud. “If you could all be so kind as to make your way to the neighbour’s house, you will find a good deal of blood splattering from the blunt force trauma to the head. From the lemon rinds under his nails, and the crumpled recipe in the hearth, I’d suggest looking in the kitchen.” Sherlock stood, brushing ash from his knees. “Come along, John.” 

He swept out of the back door, leaving Greg and his complaints in his dust. John gave a guilty look to the DI and followed, shutting the door behind him. 

Sherlock had managed to disappear, and John looked around, before spotting a small shed in the back corner of the yard, nearly hidden by a blooming Potentilla bush. He walked over, glanced around and slipped inside.

Sherlock was waiting, coat bundled in his arm. As John entered, he smiled, dropped his trousers and bent over a stack of potting soil. John’s eyes widened as he realized the man had a plug in and he gave a sharp gasp. Sherlock chuckled, and fished a small bottle of lube from his pocket, handing it over to John. 

“Better make it quick, John. I’d say we have ten minutes before Lestrade realizes we’re gone.” 

“This is a very bad idea.”

“You keep saying that John, and yet, here you are. In the shed. With me. At a crime scene, surrounded by police.”

“Shut up.” John replied, coming forward, already unbuttoning his trousers. Sherlock grinned and turned his head to the back of the shed. John pushed his bottoms down, leaving them to sit around his thighs. He gave his cock a few quick strokes as Sherlock wriggled his arse. 

“You’re taking too long, John.” 

In reply, John grabbed the base of the plug and rocked it, Sherlock jolting forward at the attention. 

“Hmph. Long enough to reach your prostate then is it?” John smirked, pulling the plug out and setting it out on a handkerchief Sherlock had apparently laid out for that exact purpose. “Ready then?”  
He slid in, Sherlock loose and ready for him. The dark haired man groaned, allowing his head to fall onto his arms. "Christ, you've been wearing that since we left the flat, how the hell are you functioning?"

"Just transport, John." Sherlock moaned.

John rolled his eyes, and thrust, fingers digging into Sherlock's hips. 

"Transport my arse." He said and Sherlock grunted as John's cock thudded into his prostate. “Quiet. Don’t want anyone to hear do we?”

Sherlock shook his head and bit down on the sleeve of his coat. John grinned and thrust his hips harder. “This isn’t going to take long.” Sherlock whined an agreement around his mouthful of fabric, slipping a hand down to fist his cock.

John sped up, hips moving frantically. His nails dug into Sherlock’s hips, leaving small red crescents in the skin. 

“Sherlock, I’m going to come in you.” He gasped. “So deep. And then I’m gonna plug you up and you’re gonna hold it until we get back. Then I’m going to fuck you again.” 

Sherlock groaned and arched his back, splattering come across the bags in front of him. John thrust twice more and came.. He panted and pulled out, grabbing the plug and working it back into Sherlock. Sherlock whined at the pressure, his head thudding back down to rest on his arms. John chuckled and bent, biting Sherlock’s arse cheek gently before pulling up the man’s trousers. He yanked his own up, buttoning them hastily. Sherlock stood, and pulled on his coat, buttoning it to hide his flushed neck. 

“Better solve this one quick” John grinned. Sherlock gave a haughty sniff, stepping out on shaky legs. John followed and they slipped away to join Lestrade once more.

**Author's Note:**

> The author has no shame. Also, no claim to any of the characters or the show. Unfortunately.  
> As always, find me [here](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.  
> Any notification of errors are accepted with gratefulness that knows no bounds.  
> Kudos, comments, and your happy (pained) flailing are accepted with glee. I hope you enjoyed!  
> 


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